


Soil

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Ficlet, M/M, Outdoor Sex, PWP, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 15:58:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14382048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Gladio enjoys his two favourite things: the great outdoors and Ignis Scientia.





	Soil

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Gladio combines the two things he loves most and fucks Ignis up against a tree. + he eats Ignis out first to loosen him up + they're not completely secluded, so there's a non-zero chance of being discovered” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4747.html?thread=9495947#cmt9495947).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Gladiolus has always loved the outdoors. The others gripe and groan as they setup their newest campsite, but Gladiolus enjoys hammering down their tent, likes tending the fire, and especially likes the smoky food that Ignis provides for them to skewer over the open flame. Best of all, he loves trading his apartment’s tiny shower for the majestic flow of the river. It glitters beneath the stars, rushing and bubbling all around him. Somehow, Ignis is an even more beautiful sight. Gladiolus washes him against the rocky ledge, dragging a quickly disappearing soap bar along his pale skin. While Noctis and Prompto sleep, Gladiolus drinks in everything he can, and Ignis lets out a languid sigh and bends himself to Gladiolus’ touch. Ignis does everything for them all day long, but when the night comes, he can finally _unwind_. 

He comes undone in Gladiolus’ arms, going pleasantly limp against Gladiolus’ broader chest. Gladiolus cleans every inch of Ignis’ gorgeous body with exacting care. He even cleans Ignis _inside_ , until Ignis is squirming in his lap and murmuring, “Not here.”

The river’s too close to camp. But Gladiolus doesn’t dare stray _too_ far. He has a job to do, and if any trouble nears his sleeping prince, he intends to hear it coming. Still, he helps Ignis out of the river and guides him back amongst a smattering of trees: some small semblance of privacy. 

Their clothes are already draped over the branches. They leave them off, having forgone towels, collecting more mud along the bottoms of their feet. Ignis turns towards the largest trunk, sinking into it with familiar easy, and he arches his back, thrusting out his rear. The position allows him to hide his face, but Gladiolus’ doesn’t have to see it to know that Ignis is blushing. His eyes must be so thickly dilated behind his stylish glasses. This is harder for him—becoming purely physical and just having _fun_ , without constantly worrying over duties. Even harder outdoors, somewhat in public. Ignis’ prim and proper figure doesn’t quite fit with the rugged wilderness all around them, but for Gladiolus, it’s just combining his two favourite things. The contrast is a bonus. Ignis’ lithe body looks utterly scrumptious against the rough bark of the tree. His bare, unblemished skin is striking against the old trunk’s withered texture. Gladiolus takes a moment to enjoy that view, and then he’s on his knees.

There’s a tube of lubrication in the pocket of Gladiolus’ jacket, just within arm’s reach, but he starts with only his mouth. He reaches out to grab at Ignis’ thighs, squeezing hard enough to make Ignis gasp. Then he shoves Ignis into place and dives forward, burying his face in the smooth curves of Ignis’ ass. Ignis cries out in surprise and want. A second later, his noises are muffled, and Gladiolus pulls back to eye the way Ignis covers up his mouth. He always tries to do that—tries to stifle the erotic sounds he so easily spills during sex. Gladiolus used to gingerly pull his wrists away and ask him to be _loud_. But Gladiolus has since learned he doesn’t have to. Ignis’ composure will fall eventually, and soon enough, the woods will be ringing with his handsome voice. In the meantime, Gladiolus gets back to work. 

He nuzzles into Ignis’ ass, pressing into the tight crack, swallowing up the swell of Ignis’ cheeks. Ignis smells intoxicating, still raw and masculine, but clean and faintly of lavender from the soap—something natural and fitting. When Gladiolus swipes his tongue along Ignis’ crack, Ignis shudders and all but whimpers. It tastes the same as always—a little bland, a tiny bit salty, neither good nor bad—but the _experience_ is everything. It just _feels_ good to have a faceful of Ignis’ ass. They spend so much of the day just running through this wilderness, chasing hunts and treasures, and Gladiolus spends most of that watching Ignis’ ripe rear dimple and flex. He often thinks of this. Now that it’s really happening, he takes full advantage.

His tongue works harder the more it goes. At first, he’s just licking everywhere, just taking it in and enjoying the way that it makes Ignis’ whole body tremble. Then he gains more purpose, and his licks center around the little puckered hole. He has to grab Ignis’ cheeks and pry them open wider to get proper room, but then he can really go to town—he laps his way around the twitching brim and closes over it, sucking away. Ignis already sounds completely broken. Gladiolus tongues his asshole anyway and curls up to thrust inside, earning a strangled cry.

Fresh and clean, Ignis’ walls are velvety smooth, delightful to brush and tease. Ignis shakes desperately, body shamefully rocking back into Gladiolus’ face, and Gladiolus happily obliges. He eats Ignis out with a feral hunger that only Ignis’ body can ever sate. Feeling Ignis rub helplessly against him is almost as wonderful as fucking Ignis on his tongue.

Gladiolus doesn’t stop until Ignis is loose and wet. It goes on too long, but it’s worth it, because Gladiolus coaxes Ignis’ channel open enough that a few fingers shouldn’t be a problem. It always takes a lot of work to loosen Ignis up, but it’s always worth it. As Gladiolus withdraws from the cloying heat of Ignis’ body, he pauses to brush a kiss over the entrance. Ignis breathes, “Gladio...”

“I’ve got you,” Gladiolus promises. He always does. His knees are stiff, but he pushes through, climbing up and quickly diverting to his jacket, only to return a moment later with a pool of lubrication in his palm. The first finger that he thrusts into Ignis goes nice and easy, but he’s still careful not to do it all at once. He knows his fingers are wide and knows that Ignis is _tight_. He trembles around Gladiolus’ finger, less unforgiving from being licked out, and soon Gladiolus can gently add a second, scissoring Ignis gradually wider. Ignis hisses and leans his forehead against the tree, face turned to the side and eyes screwed up. The river’s water has already changed the shape of his hair, and a few stray strands are slicked across his cheek. The moonlight silhouettes him perfectly. He couldn’t look any better. Gladiolus leans over to peck between his shoulder blades, murmuring, “You ready?”

Ignis answers, quiet but husky, “I’ve been ready all day.” Gladiolus chuckles fondly and gives his back another kiss.

Just to be sure, Gladiolus wipes the remaining lube off on his cock, slicking it up as best he can. As much as he enjoys roughing it in the outdoors, he’d never hurt Ignis. Wouldn’t even dream of it. He waits until his hard shaft is glistening as much as Ignis’ furrowed entrance, and then he presses forward.

The first pop inside is tough but exquisite. Ignis stifles a filthy noise, and Gladiolus grits his teeth together, hissing in satisfaction. His fingers dig into Ignis’ trim hips, holding him firmly in place. Then it’s just another little push, and another again, and Gladiolus is rocking into Ignis’ body, going deeper on every thrust. Ignis’ channel flexes wildly around him, turning Gladiolus’ mind to mush. He moves on sheer instinct, seeking out the heated paradise of Ignis’ body. He always wants _more_. He burrows in as deeply as he can, until Ignis is fully impaled and Gladiolus has nothing left to give. Then he stills, giving Ignis time to adjust. Gladiolus flattens his chest against Ignis’ back while he waits. He could swear that he can feel Ignis’ pulse racing. Ignis arches back into him, and Gladiolus leans forward, flattening Ignis back into the tree—he knows that soon, Ignis will need the support of that trunk to keep him up.

When Ignis whispers, “Please,” Gladiolus knows he can’t wait any longer. He wraps his arms around Ignis’ lithe body and _goes for it_ , hips pulling away only to slam back inside. Ignis barely manages to muffle his shout of ecstasy. Gladiolus angles in and goes again, then works into that rhythm: fucking Ignis hard and fast and right where Ignis wants. Ignis groans wantonly and flexes brokenly around him, trembling hips seeking out every touch. Gladiolus gives them the pounding of a lifetime. He knows that as much as Ignis can look like a pretty porcelain doll, he’s a man as strong as any of them, and he can take all the ardour that Gladiolus pours into him.

This is what Ignis lives for. He’s said it more than once, quietly admitted it to Gladiolus in the darkness of his apartment, curled safely up in Gladiolus’ embrace and away from his grueling job. Ignis does _so much_ for everyone else, and he works himself into a tight ball of bottled stress. He told Gladiolus that he loves surrendering, loves finally giving in and having Gladiolus fuck every bit of tension out of him—loves to be left tender and boneless. Gladiolus delivers. He fucks his favourite person in his favourite place, claiming Ignis right below the stars. 

Ignis always lasts unreasonably long. Gladiolus holds himself back for that. He spreads his mouth along Ignis’ shoulder and clamps down around Ignis’ taut flesh, digging in another mark of his brutal teeth. He slams Ignis right into the tree, reaching around just enough to shield Ignis’ cock. It’s rock-hard in Gladiolus’ fierce grip, and Gladiolus pumps it in time with every thrust. The wilderness fills him up and add to it: the smell of their stifled fire and the pines, the sounds of far-off animals and chirping insects, the sight of Ignis’ aristocratic body plastered against a tree. Even knowing they’re so exposed excites Gladiolus. Noctis could sleep through anything, but Prompto could hear, even sneak over and snap some pictures. It’s unlikely. But it’s possible. And that risk makes Gladiolus’ cock harder, makes him fuck Ignis that smidgen deeper. Ignis has to drop the hand over his mouth to clutch at the trunk, needing it just to stay up, and his bite-swollen lips spill an endless litany of lewd temptations. 

When the end does come, Gladiolus makes sure Ignis falls first. He drinks in Ignis’ rapturous cry and pumps Ignis out, letting that unprotect cum splatter the bark. Ignis’ hot, sweaty body goes rigid, only to unravel—he’d probably fall, if not for Gladiolus’ weight pinning him in place. Gladiolus kisses Ignis’ cheek and barrels into his own end, bursting inside Ignis’ ass with a satisfied shudder and moan. 

For a few more thrusts, Gladiolus just grinds it in. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of Ignis’ loose channel full of his cum. Ignis doesn’t seem to mind. He slumps in Gladiolus’ arms, letting Gladiolus hold him up and play with his body. Gladiolus gratefully uses that advantage. He milks out everything he can.

Eventually, he’s just shallowly humping Ignis’ pliant form, and Ignis sighs, “We’ll need to make love over a dining table or a work desk at the next opportunity, just to even things out.” 

Gladiolus chuckles fondly and concedes, “Whatever you want.” Or wherever, whenever. “But it won’t beat the wild.”

Ignis’ tired eyes glitter with wry amusement. He leans weakly over his shoulder, and Gladiolus takes the hint, coming in for a dirty kiss. They spend a long moment languidly tasting one another’s lips. 

Then they disentangle and hobble back to the river, needing a thorough cleaning all over again.


End file.
